Ipod Drabbles of Awesome
by 2spiffy
Summary: This is about 4...maybe...ipod song shuffle things. It goes from Squid's pov to Zigzag's. Fun fun.


**A/N: So, I started a Ipod 10 song challenge thing for Holes and another thing because I was bored..but then I got bored of doing that so I stopped at 5...and now I have decided to post them. Enjoy!**

Poor Unfortunate Souls, Little Mermaid:

"Alan, baby, do this for me. For momy. Don't you love me?"

Squid still heard the words echoing in his head as he rode the bus to hell. It was her fault he was here, but he should have known something was off. She had come into the kitchen while he was scanvenging for food he knew he wouldn't find. She had called his name, softly, yet he had still flinched prepared to be hit. She hadn't hit me though, she had apologized. And that was all it took.

"Oh Alan you're so grown." She had cooed while stroking his face, drawing him in. She told him how sorry she was, she ensared him with lies brought on by her burning need for alcohol. The alcohol she herself was unable to get, but she still Alan. She still had her son. He was blinded by her kindness, unable to see the evil hateful woman who abused him daily. Tortured him constantly. Made him feel worthless. Instead he saw his mom. Kind, loving, compassionate. The way she was before his dad left. It took no time to convince him to go, to convince him that he would get this in return. This one thing he always wanted. Just steal one necklace, just one more bottle of poison.

"Please Alan, don't you love me?"

"Yes mama. Don't cry mama. I love you. I'll go get it. Just stop crying, I swear I'll go get it."

Helena Beat, Foster the People(Zigzag):

Acute paranoia. It doesn't sound like much. But it is, at least to me it is. I live life constantly scared, worried, alert. I never relax. I'm always thinking about them, they, those people...and I'm not even sure who I'm talking about. But they still scare me. Terrify me. On top of that I have to deal with people. People who say I'm crazy, and maybe I am, but it still isn't their right to say so. They say it like I don't know, like it should be news to me, but I hear it everyday. These are the thoughts that make life bad. They make me think I don't belong. Like poison they slip through and taint everything good.

On those days, the poison days, I have to think good thoughts. The antidote thoughts. The cure. I think of the broken t.v in the rec room that, with a good imagination, holds a world of stories. Or the one cloud, that would get so close to sitting in front of the sun, giving D-Tent some hope. My favorite to think about is Alan, well Squid. With he chocolate hair, and chocolate eyes. He never has called me crazy.

So yeah, I have a hard life sometimes. I'm always different, and sometimes I feel like just giving up. Just ending it. But on those days I just hide in bed. I curl up and I fight the feeling that it's over. I fight it with Alan's, and , and clouds. I hold on with all I have, and I don't let go. I make it through knowing with every bad day, there's a good one. A day full of everything nice. No them, no they. I just have to hold on.

Only if for a Night, Florence and the Machine(Squid):

When I heard we were leaving camp, I got this bad feeling in my gut. Home. Everyone's going home. Except me. I don't have a home to go to. I started to feel sick, even after dancing in the rain. No one noticed my excitment was purely for show, no one except Zigzag. Zigzag always notices.

"What's wrong?" He had asked while we sat in the empty tent.

"I don't have a home to go to." I replied.

And now I'm back. Back with my drunk mother and back to feeling hopeless. Standing by the sink I hold a gun to my temple as I stare in the grimy mirror. I stare at a face so achngly familiar.

"Ziggy?" I breath. I close my eyes, wishing for my reflection to return.

"Remember what I said." His voice slips through my mind. I open my eyes to stare at the ghost. The ghost of my past, the good past. The past I want to remember. I reach out and place my fingers on the cold lifeless mirror. I let out one sob. A broken sound. One full of pain. I force myself to calm down, force my mind to think only of Zigzag, but his image is fading. I drop the gun, desperate to keep him, but I can't think of how. It comes to me quickly, my newest idea. I run outside to our small backyard.

"5 feet wide, 5 feet deep." I clench the shovel in my, knowing it will be a burden to explain to my mother. Still I stick the point deep in the soft dirt and prepare to sling it. "Here's to D-Tent. Here's to home."

I dig all day, out of shape and moving slow. I don't think, I just concentrate on 1 shovel full of dirt at a time. I dig to forget the bad. I dig to remember the good. Only if for a moment. Only if for a night.

Slowly, but with no intention of quitting, I dig my way out of my very last hole.

Never let me Go, Florence and the Machine(Zigzag):

I had started out fighting, resisting...but soon I became to weak to fight. I guess you could say I gave up, but that isn't exactly right. I didn't give up, I just gave in. I sit here and I stare at these white walls and it gives me peace. A weird kind of peace, a kinda that almost suffocates me. I like this place though. It has order. The order keeps me sane. The doctors coming at the same time, asking the same questions. But like I said, the walls are what keep me happiest. I slip beneath the sheets and I stare at the white, but that isn't what I see. I see a rainbow. When they come, I don't bother to look away. I hardly acknowledge them anymore. But that's best. To not speak, to hardly breathe. To sit in my ocean of color, content all the way at the bottom. It isn't much different than if I was in the real world, the boring world. But it is different. It's better here.

Of course it hasn't always been like this. I haven't been in this place all my life. I use to be up there. Stuck in a scary place. Hardly as sane as I am now. The doctor says it was the digging that kept me from totally losing it. The digging worked as a calmer, like the drugs. Like the order. Like the colors. He's wrong though. Digging was hardly helpful. No, it was Squid who really kept me from going. Squid was my ocean. He was a place to rest, a place to get away. Even the drugs don't work as well as he did. They can't replace the feeling of getting lost in his eyes. Even his heart, the one he refused to show he had. He isn't here though, so I survive thorough his memory. I have to wait until he comes to get me to fully be back, to fully resurface.


End file.
